


Death in Every Dance

by GoblinCatKC



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, Flashbacks, Objectification, Slavery, Trauma, how Rose met Pearl, past mixing into present, relationships very much between the lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 08:03:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7706956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoblinCatKC/pseuds/GoblinCatKC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gems may not need to sleep but sometimes Pearl dreamed anyway, wide awake as her mind fell back into distant memories that suddenly seemed part of the now—a royal court, moonstone gems playing simple chimes, and her master's command to a priceless pearl..."dance."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death in Every Dance

  
credit: [Pearl3 by NeatTea](NeatTea)

"Dance for me."

Pearl froze, dropping the clothespins and laundry. They clattered on the stone floor, and her first thought was that the rhythm was all off. The tones were flat. The moonstones would be punished for performing so badly, but she has been ordered to dance, and the silence that followed—she did not look to see if the moonstones had been shattered—she raised her arms smoothly—

"Man," Amethyst groaned, "you really will start dancing at the drop of a pin."

The bubble of a dream popped. Pearl was left in mid-step, one foot on pointe, the other flat and about to lift. Warm ocean wind blew across her face, bringing the scent of detergent and sea that was, briefly, all too alien, fluttering the laundry on the line. She saw Amethyst sitting on the washer, so bored that she had come to watch Pearl do chores. They stood on the palm of the statue that towered over the house, and in the distance the city rippled in a heat mirage.

"Pearl?"

Amethyst sat up and stared at her with growing concern. The tall gem might be annoying and bossy, but her eyes were widening as if she had seen something horrible. Amethyst followed her look, afraid there might be a fight on the way. But Pearl was gazing into a distant nothing.

When Amethyst turned back, Pearl was already halfway down the arm, dropping down to the front door. Pearl passed Steven in the kitchen, ignoring his startled calling of her name, and she paused as the crystal gate opened the portal to her room.

Waterfalls, sheer gold ribbon, silver mirror surfaces and the stars of her homeworld's sky...all of these formed her refuge, her sanctuary. The water accepted her footfalls without disturbance. The air held none of the strange earth scents she had never grown accustomed to. No chemicals. No smog. Just the faint scent of stone and crystal.

She stepped back from the portal.

She would not sully her room with this dance.

"Dance for me, pearl."

Was her diamond here in this room? The voice was so clear and so hard. As unyielding as any diamond could be, confident in her absolute control. Pearl turned, running from the house, down the steps. Behind her, she didn't hear the voices from the now, only voices from her past.

"Steven, no."

"But she looks like she's hurt—"

"Don't, Steven. She has to do this on her own."

Sand. Horrible, horrible sand that scratches and scratches, and so much worse because that ugly, misshapen grain of sand is at the core of any pearl.

"All pearls are sensitive," the agate gems always said. "It's that irritating bit inside of them."

Sand was why she was not a real gem and would never be a real gem. Even when she knelt in the shallow pools of the pearl farm, tending her own growing pearl with her characteristic precision and detail, she heard the mutters of the agate workers around her. Praise for shaping the nacre of her gem to a perfect smoothness, polishing it to a reflective lustre. Disgust for the organic creature required to secrete nacre around herself. And the comments about her smooth form, her perfect awareness of her movements.

She was further down the beach now. She risked punishment for delaying so long, but sand was no place to dance. Behind the temple, behind the stone hill it was carved into, lay the flat, gray rock that stretched into the rolling waves. Small tidal pools swirled with ripples born of the wind, filled with sea weed and driftwood and tiny fish trapped until high tide.

"Dance, pearl."

The waves stopped crashing, white foam spilling out over the rock like smooth silver that chimed. The water at her feet became mirror-like and still, the reflecting pool that had been created solely to contain her.

She brought her arms to her chest, crossed the wrist, and lowered her head. One leg out, foot pointed, swept a circle and stepped forward.

It was the same move she had used to step up to be auctioned.

Only the finest pearls were selected to be presented to the Diamond Authority. In the high court, the ruling topaz and corundum gems stood at either side, murmuring as ten pearls were lined before the thrones of the four diamonds. The pearls all kept their gaze lowered, heads slightly tilted, hands cupped before them at their waist to accommodate the slender gold chain from their collars to their bracelets.

A pearl could never dream of harming a diamond, but the court would have them locked tight regardless.

Their handler, a tanzanite gem, stood at the side of the stage, bowing low to the assembled rulers. She placed a cut circle of marble on the floor to serve as a low dais, barely large enough for any gem to stand on. Then, one by one, she called each pearl to stand upon the marble.

Seated to the side of the thrones, a moonstone lifted her chimes and began to play a simple tune for them. At her cue, each pearl performed a short selection.

Pearl waited, the only one who did not tremble to hear the diamonds speak, comparing one pearl to another. This one's hair, this one's coloring, this one's lustre as she stepped just so. The last one in line, she heard the choice of each diamond being made before she even had her turn. Yellow Diamond preferred the first one and her precise quick turns. Blue Diamond selected the fourth pearl for her smooth adagio. Pink Diamond dithered between seven and eight, and White Diamond leaned toward six.

Finally the ninth pearl stepped back into the row. The tanzanite waved her slender baton, the edge of which Pearl knew all too well from its strikes on her legs to step higher, her back to stand straighter. And she took her place on the dais.

The moonstone paused ever so briefly to change a chime that had chipped. In the silence, Pearl felt the dance inside of her change. This small marble circle was no place for the restrained steps from tradition. In the silence, Pearl felt the whole of her hardlight body shiver as the chains lay against her hands. Instead of a simple transition from first to second position, she brought her arms up, crossed.

As one, the assembled court drew in a startled breath. The other pearls had not done this, nor had they swept their foot out into the empty space just beyond the dais, slightly above the floor. Then Pearl dipped, her weight born on her bent knee, before rising and turning in one motion. She turned her head, never raising her eyes, but the sideways glance at the floor seemed all the more illicit.

"My apologies," the tanzanite stammered, raising her rod out of startled habit. "This was not—"

"Silence," White Diamond cut him off. "The pearl will perform."

Pearl sank down again, one shoulder at a time, crouching as she lifted her hands. The gold chain seemed to spill out from between her fingers, cascading along her throat. Laying on her side, she extended one leg into the air, then swiftly swung it behind herself, using its momentum to bring herself around onto her knees. Hands up in genuflection, she swayed a circle, then another, allowing her head to follow the motion.

Her next sway brought her back to her feet as she raised one leg behind herself in almost impossible arabesque. Then brought her leg down again, feet flat, lowered herself to one knee in an elegant bow. Her arm stretched out until the chain pulled taut. Her other hand spread over her chest, fingers just over the chain as if to both hide it and reveal it in tantalizing glimpses.

Perfect silence followed as the court waited to hear what the diamonds would say. Only now did they notice that no music had accompanied her. The moonstone had been as shocked as everyone else and taken the command for "silence" for herself as well.

Yellow Diamond gave a low laugh.

"I don't think this one is meant for holding things."

Similar low rumbles of laughter followed as the surrounding topaz and corundum gems followed her lead. Their mouths snapped shut as Blue Diamond leaned forward.

"Fine movement," she murmured. "A shame she is imperfect. A pearl should know when to be still."

"She seems still now," White Diamond said. "She didn't move at all while the other pearls danced."

"A pearl should also know when to follow commands," Blue Diamond said.

"She was commanded to dance," Pink Diamond said. "And she danced."

They heard the tone of interest in her voice. The other diamonds glanced at her, then at each other. Their mouths pressed into fine lines.

"I would have her dance for me," Yellow Diamond said.

"So would I," White Diamond said. "In my personal chambers. I don't think I care what her price is."

Blue Diamond chuckled. "Can the world buy such a jewel?" she mocked.

"Yes," Pink Diamond said. "And the box to put her into."

"Do you have such a box?" Blue Diamond asked.

"You will never know," Pink Diamond said, never taking her eyes off Pearl. "Because I will never let her out of it. You've chosen your pearls. Now I've chosen mine."

Yellow Diamond frowned, as did White Diamond and Blue Diamond. Their envy was palpable, their discontent reflected in their eyes as the real treasure slipped into their sister's hands. Pink Diamond had her personal topaz send along the payment then and there to be sure there were no mistakes, and as money changed hands, Pearl remained bowing, a music box dancer waiting for the next cue.

Glistening from sea spray, Pearl danced among the tidal pools. Deftly walking on water, she turned and leaped so that the sun reflected off her flawless surface, turned her arms in a wide circle as she bent, then cartwheeled so slowly that she seemed to defy gravity.

On the rocky crevice above her, Steven and Amethyst watched from behind a low outcropping. Garnet stood behind them, arms folded, refusing to look.

"I don't get it," Steven said. "Why is she dancing?"

"Yeah," said Amethyst. "There isn't even any music."

Garnet's mouth twisted.

"It's a command performance."

In Pearl's mind, the auction block faded. The tide pools became the shallow reflecting pool that Pink Diamond created for her, a perfect circle in the center of her personal court. From her cushions beside the throne, Pearl knelt or sat at Pink Diamond's feet, ready for the moonstone's chime.

A hand would fall her shoulder or head, lightly tracing the pearl set just above her eyes.

"Dance for me, my pearl."

In one motion, Pearl rose and took her place. Sometimes the topaz court was allowed to stay. Sometimes Pink Diamond wanted a private dance. And on rare occasion, Pink Diamond wanted a dance to accompany the music masking the sound of shattering gems, prisoners of war broken at her leisure.

Pearl learned to dance with her back to her diamond, turning a widening gyre or bending backward with eyes shut. Pink Diamond knew that Pearl couldn't bring herself to even glimpse the gems breaking into musical shards at her feet, knew and didn't begrudge it to her. A weak, ornamental pearl was allowed her terror so long as she danced.

Pearl did not always have the warning of a bag of gems on Pink Diamond's lap. When the moonstone missed a note, the musician had all of a moment to cry out in fear as Pink Diamond's hand came down in anger, cracking the gem down the middle.

Frozen, Pearl saw everything. And collapsed, arms outflung as if her strings had been cut.

A moment passed. That was all she could be allowed as she slowly collected herself, gathering back on her knees in a supplicant bow, arching her back even as her hands clenched into fists. She continued her dance in silence, at last crawling on all fours from the reflecting pool. Ripples followed her until she lay her head down at Pink Diamond's feet.

When she was allowed back to her pile of cushions, she curled up tight, remembering to put one leg out, one arm on the same line. Even in her fear, even when still, she was there to dance.

Garnet continued to face away, refusing to look at Pearl, collapsed in the tide pools.

"Okay," Amethyst said, "I get that Steven and me can't help. But what about you? You know what's happening, right?"

"I'm not comfortable being here," Garnet said. "But I can't stop you. So I'm just here to make sure nothing happens while she's out here."

"But Garnet..." Steven whined. "I'm kinda scared. What's wrong with her?"

"You remember what Peridot said." Garnet sighed. "She's a pearl. That...was not a good thing on homeworld."

Still locked in her dream, Pearl reclined against Pink Diamond like a prized pet. It was her diamond's order, sit languidly beside her as if Pink Diamond was her whole world. Since Pearl had never been beyond the pearl farm or the court of the diamonds, it was true enough.

Today, however, Pink Diamond was displaying her wealth and giving a show at the same time. The broad court doors opened wide and a group of quartz gems entered. Pearl vaguely listened to their names only in case she had to bow to any of them formally. Aqua, Rose, Tourmaline and Padparadscha. She had seen quartz gems before and these were, as usual, elite commanders who had earned special recognition on the battlefield.

This time, in recognition of their martial accomplishments, she danced with a spear. As always, her movement drew admiring looks and murmurs—and as always, she felt her spirit soothed and lifted. No matter how violent Pink Diamond became, Pearl belonged to her. Pearl was precious and Pearl had her commands. It was all a pearl could ever want or hope to receive.

"She dances well?" Pink Diamond asked, inviting their comments.

The quartzes all nodded and bowed their thanks, but one of them smiled.

"She is beautiful with one spear," Rose Quartz said. "My Diamond, may we see how she dances with two?"

"By all means," Pink Diamond said. She raised her hands, about to clap to pause the dance.

Instead Rose Quartz materialized a spear and hurled it unerringly at Pearl.

Pink Diamond had no time to scream, watching in shock as her pearl was about to be destroyed. Everyone froze.

Except Rose, who had no fear, and Pearl, who turned and caught it in her free hand. Spinning them both, she planted the blades in the reflecting pool, then turned a neat somersault between them and continued moving over the water.

"My compliments," Rose Quartz said. "She would make the finest soldier on the battlefield."

Pink Diamond accepted the compliment, glowed over her pearl, and resolved to have Rose Quartz sent to a distant colony, never to return again. She also beat Pearl for the first time, slamming her slender body into the floor until Pearl disappeared, clattering to the stone floor as her gem.

In time, Pearl reformed on her cushions, trembling and curling up with no regard to her pose or position. The court was dark and empty. Everyone was out and she was alone. She did not know if she had been abandoned. It was not unheard of for a diamond to leave one outpost and not return for a millenia, if at all.

When she could bring herself to rise, she crept across the floor to the reflecting pool and looked at herself. Her face had changed in a way that had nothing to do with her reformation. The last light in them was gone. Pearls were meant to perform. And the performance inside of her was no longer hers.

Pink Diamond has beaten something new into her shape, and she can't move like she did before.

She stood up and lifted her arms. Turned. Spun slowly. Ducked low and turned again. Every move was deliberate, too much attention paid to every part of her that broke in her diamond's hands. Her body should not have felt so strange but she could not bring herself to move any faster than a crawl.

Pink Diamond would kill her some day. She knew this, but she'd never really felt it until now. Somehow the aftermath of her beating is less frightening than when she saw the moonstone shattered. What hurt worse was that the dance had changed and she did not know how to break that change out of herself.

When the court doors opened, she swept into a bow out of habit. Instead her Diamond's battered form fell at her feet. Pearl blinked. Pink Diamond was scratched, bent in wrong directions and glitching at the edge of losing her form. Her diamond groaned and tried to turn on her back, grasping at the water.

"I thought you might want to see this."

Rose Quartz came into the throne room, casting a long shadow across Pearl. In one hand she held a pink sword. In the other, a shield. She looked as imposing as only a front line gem could, her face as hard as her stone. Even the Diamonds did well to fear the commanders of their armies and legions. The battle had been fierce—there was a limp to Rose Quartz's step and her surface was scratched and cracked so that she would have to heal soon—but there was nothing but triumph in every step.

Pearl put her hands to her mouth, cringing backward. It was her first inelegant move, and the first time she had spoken in millenia.

"Why?" she demanded. "She's my—our diamond."

"Because you should dance," Rose Quartz said.

"I do dance," Pearl said, unable to look away from Pink Diamond. "Every day I dance for her."

"What about for yourself?" Rose Quartz said. "Do you dance the way you want to?"

Pearl gently knelt, gathering her legs underneath herself. She crossed her arms protectively over her chest, but she could not look away from the quartz towering over her.

"I dance the way I always have," Pearl said, bewildered.

She was vaguely aware that she had already committed treason. She should have screamed, called for help, covered her diamond with her body. Pink Diamond will never forgive her for speaking, for moving without permission.

Rose Quartz looked over her shoulder, and in her half turn, Pearl could see the grand staircase littered with fallen rubies and smaller quartzes. Her eyes widened at the sheer magnitude of Rose Quartz's crime.

Judging that they had time, Rose Quartz turned back to Pearl.

"You are so much more than other pearls," she said. "No other pearl creates her own steps. No other pearl has music inside her to dance to."

"I'm just a pearl," came the whispered, frantic reply. "I'm just a pearl. I'm just—"

"I will not let you lie to me." Rose Quartz extended her hand, bending down to her. "You are not just a pearl. Will you dance for me?"

Later, Pearl would learn about earth and the reasons that Rose Quartz fought. She would learn about humans and their world. She would discover that she had signed on for a much harder fight than she had realized, shouldering the burden and holding the banner high. She would learn to dance on the battlefield.

If she had known any of that when Rose Quartz asked her to come, she would not have cared. Rose Quartz bent, acknowledging her, and Rose Quartz stared into her eyes with a smile that invited Pearl's look in return, drawing her over Pink Diamond's glitching, cracking body.

Pearl put her hand in Rose Quartz's—

Pearl put her hand in Rose Quartz's—

Pearl put her hand in Rose Quartz's—

The dream exploded.

Pearl screamed and fell to her knees, put her hands on the hard rocks of the tide pools and screamed as cold waves rolled against her. She vanished under a curve of water that turned her into a mirage shimmering under a diamond surface, then reappeared frozen and gasping and shaking. Her screams came without breath, silent under water, piercing after each wave.

"But Garnet, let me go to her—!"

"She's too dangerous right now. She won't recognize you."

"But why? Why?"

"...because Rose isn't there."

Rose who always took her hand. Who was always there when Pearl came out of a flashback, taking her hand and pulling her into a new dance. Who was gone and would never pull her out of that place again. Rose, who had taken her from her homeworld to this desolate rock of sand.

At least when the waves covered her, the world was as closed off as Pink Diamond's chamber.

Finally she fell silent, sitting up on her knees. She wiped the spray from her face, letting the waves continue to come past her. The wind was dying down now and the water was not so choppy as the tide slowly flowed back in. Letting her shoulders drop, bowing her head, she took a long, unnecessary breath, settling back into something like herself.

They were behind her, watching. She knew. She did not turn around to smile or reassure them.

Before her, the ocean lay flat and infinite, as unchanging as a thousand years before, as unchanging as it would be a thousand years more. As still as marble.

She drew one knee up, stood, then stepped onto the surface of the water. The beach flats were their own shallow reflecting pool, but rocky and wild, not crafted by fine bismuth gems for a royal court but by the happenstance of nature and time. The sun was not a glowing projector but a harsh burn on the sky, catching both her lustre and the shine of the scaled fish around her feet, freed as the tide came in. The wind not a delicate chime but a roar across the rocks.

Rose Quartz had never promised herself, but she had promised Pearl a place to dance worthy of her inner music and self-created steps.

"Dance," Pearl whispered, her voice ruined by screams. "For me."

Someone walked across the flat beach, splashing through the water to let her know that she was there.

"Are you all right now?" Garnet asked.

Pearl's head lifted. She stared at the hot sky, shoulders pulled back, arms out.

The ocean was a vast dais of marble that rippled and crashed and destroyed anything that fought against it.

On a surface now as smooth as glass, the renegade pearl, traitor to the homeworld, danced as she had learned from war. Her weapon was her own step, her shield was her own music. Her audience was herself, and shatter anyone else who came to stare. Death and broken gems were in her every move, fought for and now defended with desperate pride just as surely as if she held her spear before an errant army.

_Terrifying_ , Garnet thought as she sat at the edge of the sand, enthralled and unable to look away from a dance so delicate that the water did not tremble...

...even if the dancer did.


End file.
